Golden One: Story of a Prince
by forlove
Summary: This is the story of Legolas Greenleaf. From the tales of his youth, to his accomplishments in battle, to his bitter trial of true love.
1. Prologue: First Hunt

I humbly ask you to enjoy my story. If you don't like it, I'm sorry, shame on me. If you do like it, wonderful! I must say though, reviews are EXTREMELY helpful. I don't get paid for this, so reviews are the only way that I know if what I'm writing is indeed read and/or enjoyed. One little review is enough to make my heart soar. Love you all!  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own this. It owns me. It took over me sometime last night and will not release its hold. I might die from this. . . . . . . .seriously. No, not really. I'm just joking. Enjoy, readers!  
  
_ Love, laughter, pain, loss  
Smiles, songs, moans, cries from above  
Life goes on, eternal, forever  
Live for love, die for life  
Live for life, die for love. . .  
_  
Part I T.A. 250  
  
_Almost, almost there. One more step. Yet she stands there motionless. Why, Eru?! She cannot possibly know I am watching her, can she? Perhaps the deer are becoming attentive. . . Ah yes! Within range!_  
  
An elf, crouching nearby, arrow notched in his finely carven bow, jolted upright and released the arrow. The hovering silence reverberating through the wood shattered momentarily as the arrow sang through the air and plunged into the doe's heart with a sickening thud. The silence returned. The doe lay in the peaceful serenity of death, fallen upon on the grassy floor.  
  
An instance later, the elf whose arrow had plunged her to the ground walked quietly toward her, a remorse and saddened look in his azure eyes. He knelt down beside her, and pulled out his arrow, wincing in sorrow as the skin tissue of the doe ripped visibly at the wrenched pressure. After kneeling beside her for a while, eyes locked upon her fallen form, he lowered his bow to the ground and cupped his hands around his mouth. The lulling call of a bird issued forth from his hands.  
  
Mere seconds later, the forms of other elves exposed themselves from behind neighboring trees, joining the hunter in the clearing. All stared in respectful silence, before one particular ellon with dark hair and eyes made his way quietly towards the hunter to kneel beside him, placing a consoling hand upon the other's shoulder. Silence continued to cover the clearing until soft words were spoken from the hunter.  
  
"If I had known how much hurt came from slaying so beautiful a thing, I would not have lifted my bow, nor drawn my arrow." He lowered his eyes from the deer to rest on the forest floor, golden hair gleaming against the oppressive haze of the woodland's atmosphere. "Why did you not tell me?" He now looked up sorrowfully into his companion's gaze. The remaining elves that encircled the two kneeling beside the deer silently retreated a few steps to veil themselves once more within the forest, giving the two a moment of uninterrupted discussion.  
  
"It always wounds the first time you take a life, prince." The consoling elf uttered softly. "If I had told you of this, would you have struck her down?" The young, golden princeling slowly shook his head, crystalline blue eyes shifting downwards towards the doe once more.  
  
"You felt her pain." the elf tenderly stated.  
  
"I still feel it. In my heart. The bitter loss of life." The golden one whispered. The prince's companion gently enveloped him in a warm embrace, murmuring condolences,  
  
"The pain does pass, Legolas. It does become less trying. 'Tis but your first hunt."  
  
"I know," The two gradually released themselves from each other, warm friendship in their eyes. They stood as the prince's comrade softly whistled to the others.  
  
"Come, Legolas, we must transport this poor creature home."  
  
Nodding and gesturing for aid from the others, Legolas and the small group of sentries carried the body of the doe to a litter lying farther into the forest. Whilst two of the wardens clasped and lifted either end of the litter's pole to which the doe had been tied, the young prince and his cohort walked a small way ahead of the others.  
  
"You are still troubled?" the darkling elf asked.  
  
"Yes, beyond reasoning. Culmîr, what is wrong with me?" the prince asked with a worried edge to his tone.  
  
Culmîr merely smiled as he replied,  
  
"We are elves, Legolas. We do not take lives easily. Death is something we will never truly understand. Every elf I have ever known has always become remorseful upon their first killing of their first hunt. You are also young, only just reaching your majority. Pain does not bode well with an untried heart. Give yourself time."  
  
A silent spell fell on them as they continued to walk through the great wood. At great length, the golden prince softly implored,  
  
"Culmîr?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"You will not tell my brother my reaction will you? I-I told him I was a warrior. He will mock me if he hears of my tender response to my first hunt."  
  
It looked as if the dark haired elf known as Culmîr struggled hard not to laugh as he playfully mussed up the princeling's plaited gold hair.  
  
"He will not hear it from me, golden one! Though I suppose you would find it rather interesting to know that your brother was nigh on tears upon shooting a squirrel during his first hunt a few years back!"  
  
Legolas' blue eyes widened with surprise and joviality.  
  
"Truly, Culmîr? You do not jest?"  
  
"Nay. However, you did not hear it from me!" Culmîr winked humorously.  
  
The prince laughed loud and merrily, his sorrow forgotten.  
  
Story will continue. . . 


	2. The Realm of Thranduil

Terribly sorry that I didn't update sooner. I'm usually really good at updating quickly, it's just that this weekend was exceptionally busy. So once again, terribly sorry, it shan't happen again! Oh and thank you to all those who reviewed! gives each of you a big virtual hug It really makes me happy to see reviews, and I wasn't expecting any this soon!  
  
The forest of Greenwood the Great was silent that day. Almost too silent. There was no sound of the cries of sparrows, nor the chatter of squirrels. The stifling ambiance oppressed the entire wood. The lighted beam of fireflies could be seen every now and then in the greenish haze.  
  
Two great trees stood tall and very near one another toward the edge of a small clearing. One could not be sure exactly what type of tree they were, for they really were not any kind. If they had to be classified, they would be described as something of a mixture between a large oak (very large), and a willow. Their enormous, bulked frames were gnarled and seemed twisted by age. Yet they shone with the luminosity of youth and ethereal beauty, a superiority that very few trees of Middle-earth possessed. Trees of such ambiance and character divulge that the firstborn of Ilúvatar reside not far away.  
  
Silently and tranquilly, a small band of elves approached the large pair of trees. Two of them held a litter, with a young doe fastened to its core. They paused before the large vegetation, gazing up at the knotted branches that wove together to create a barrier, refusing access to those seeking to pass the trees.  
  
After a moment's pause, a golden crowned young elf made his way forward and spoke in a clear, resounding voice,  
  
"Edro!"  
  
For a moment nothing happened, yet the elves waited patiently. Suddenly the great trees seemed to come alive; straightening their great trunks and slowly unwinding their long branches out of the other's grasp. It was a miraculous sight to behold yet the elves' expressions remained placid and still, their fair features glowing with unearthly beauty, as did the trees.  
  
Soon the great branches had ceased their slithering act of unraveling, and the two trees stood now at least twenty feet across from one another to reveal a large passageway. Down the passage was a long row, bordered by columns of tall birches, leading to a long bridge over a swift river, and finally, a large gated doorway stood at the opposite end. This was the Gate of the Elvenking; entrance to the realm of Thranduil.  
  
Legolas smiled at the sight of his home. He had been long parted from it and found himself loathing the day when he would be sent on another hunt by his father. Shooting down poor, defenseless creatures was entirely different than shooting at the wooden targets in the training yard.  
  
Sighing in delight, he led his companions down the row between the columns of trees.  
  
"Happy to be home?" a gentle voice came from beside him. Legolas turned to see Culmîr walking beside him.  
  
"More than I'd thought I'd be," the prince replied with a smile. "I remember being so eager for my first hunt, however I never thought that I would praise the hour I came home more so than I did for the hour of my departure!"  
  
Culmîr laughed deeply and merrily, giving cause for Legolas to chuckle as well. The dark-haired elf was his father's foremost advisor and friend for nigh on two hundred years. It had been Thranduil's advice to send Culmîr with Legolas on his first hunt, knowing full well that he was as a second father to his youngest son.  
  
Legolas glanced back along the row to see the great elven trees already closing in on one another once more after the entire group had passed through, protecting their realm and giving the great forest an air of mystery that mere mortals would never understand. Somehow, the young prince always felt a warm flow of safety and comfort wash over him whenever the trees closed in again after opening momentarily, shielding the domain from the supremacy of the outside world.  
  
The forest river rushed quietly along under them as they made their way to the large door, which stood as an entrance to the heart of the realm. The group paused once more before the doorway, and Legolas walked forward to bid the doors open with his command. Yet, before a sound came from him, the doors began to open. The large stone gates swung outwardly on hinges that were hidden even to the keenest eyes of the Eldar.  
  
Inside, King Thranduil stood, garbed in a forest green robe cascading to the floor, a light green tunic parted halfway down his chest underneath. The golden locks of the King made it apparent he was indeed his son's father.  
  
"Mae govannen, Legolas nîn." The King stated, striding forward to welcome his son in a fatherly embrace. The prince eagerly returned the embrace, glad to be home. After releasing the prince from his hold, the King turned to Culmîr, smiling warmly.  
  
"I hope you did not let my youngest son come to any harm," the King warned lightheartedly.  
  
"Aran nîn, do you see him in once piece? He has indeed been well if not a tad homesick!"  
  
After the elder elves laughed heartily they embraced, their eyes glinting in mirth.  
  
"Come!" The King now called. "Let us withdraw inside!"  
  
The King led them through a long passage, which opened up into the large throne room. It was a large space, with a high ceiling. Open shafts were cut out in the stone along the higher ends of the walls, casting rays of sunlight to stream down, coating the room in its golden radiance. At the head of the room sat a large throne carven from wood. Many other Sindarin elves lingered in the throne room, singing songs of mirth and challenging one another to contests of music playing on their harps. Upon noticing their King, Prince, and kinsman enter, they called their welcomes and bowed their heads respectfully.  
  
"Good elves!" The King called after commanding two of the prince's comrades bearing the doe to the kitchens as he paused in the center of the room. "My son has returned from the hunt! As of now, he is of full maturity! Tonight, I shall hold a feast in honor of this blessed event!" At this, the entire hall cried aloud in merriment, for a feast meant celebration, and celebration meant wine. If there was one thing the elves of Thranduil desired more than any other house of elves did, it was wine.  
  
Legolas' tipped ears flushed a faint crimson. As embarrassed as he was at being the center of attention, a good feast was never short of making him smile.  
  
"Legolas!" a light, young voice called. The prince turned to see his young, twelve year old sister run towards him, arms outstretched.  
  
"Galenril!" He called back as she collided into him, nearly sending him to the floor. She wrapped her arms around his middle laughing with the innocence of youth and joviality. After gaining his footing, the prince knelt down to smile at her with beautiful azure eyes. She returned the smile with an equally brilliant blue gaze that ran in the family, as did gold hair.  
  
She went on to show him a newly carven bow that their older brother, Barasûl, had made for her.  
  
"When I am older, I shall kill a hundred deer just like yours and have a hundred feasts!" she cried in happiness, caressing her small bow. Legolas' eyes saddened slightly, aware of the fact that she too would learn the pain of slaying a creature when she came of age. However, he decided to let her bask in pride and happiness for now and enjoy the pleasures of youth. Standing up, he uttered softly,  
  
"I'm sure you will, muinthel nîn."  
  
He looked up to see his mother smiling at him.  
  
"She has done nothing but practice with that accursed bow for the past month! Of course, your father gave Barasûl quite a scolding for gifting her with it!" Lómësil smiled warmly and kissed her son upon his brow. "Welcome home, Legolas nîn." Her shining bright hair shone with luster. Mother and son then laughed softly as Galenril gave her brother one last hug before drifting off to show her new bow to someone else.  
  
Nearly sighing from weariness, Legolas began,  
  
"Mother, though I-"  
  
Queen Lómësil cut him off however.  
  
"I know, I know, my son! You are weary. Well, get thee to bed and rest before the feast tonight!" Grinning thankfully to his mother he turned to make his departure. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father sitting upon his wooden throne speaking to Culmîr in hushed tones. Legolas found that he was glad that he was still much too young to be a counselor to his father. He pitied Culmîr in that he could not so easily excuse himself to get a time of relaxation before this evening after just returning home from a vigorous hunt.  
  
Stifling a yawn, Legolas excused himself through the small throng of people conversing near the back entrance and exited the throne room. Pushing back a curtain of soft, green cloth, he found himself outside once more, looking upon the realm. Back inside the large cavern were the dining hall, throne room, storeroom, and dungeons. Not an elf lived inside of it however. Thranduil's subject's lived beyond the stone cavern.  
  
The prince's eyes roved about the rear forest. Tall beech trees housed many talons and numerous wooden huts lay spread out across the expanse of the King's domain. Here, the glow of the Eldar was great and beautiful where as the warden trees at the entrance of the domain had been but a taste of the elven splendor that was here suspended in the clear air.  
  
He smiled. 'Twas good to be home.  
  
He began to make his way toward his own talon, which lay towards the rear of the domain. Striding through the realm he was greeted by many folk who eagerly welcomed him home. Maintaining a frozen smile upon his face, he commented politely that yes, it was a fine hunt, and no, he had no trouble making a first kill. He nearly sighed in exasperation as many elleth found there way toward him to bat their eyelashes and flirtatiously place their hands on his arm. He secretly vowed to himself that he would spend a large portion of the following years tutoring his sister not to behave such as these simpering, flighty, females! Not that he did not appreciate the elleth, they were indeed beautiful creatures with matchless grace, yet he found their presence more annoying than arousing.  
  
Legolas had always known, even when he was but a mere elfling, that he would never marry. He did not know how he knew he simply. . .knew. As much as he knew that he was alive. If he pondered the matter too long, he began to question himself, so the prince made a point of not thinking about it.  
  
There were now no longer any huts residing on the ground where he strode and the talons atop the trees were few and far between. These were the flets used to accommodate guests to the wood, though Thranduil had not housed guests in a long while. Legolas' flet laid in somewhat seclusion which was exactly what he desired. Seclusion. There was nothing more peaceful than to fall into the recesses of sleep within complete silence and wake up to the callings of birds, not the comings and goings of neighbors.  
  
As he reached the beech tree in which his own talon resided, he paused, eyes widening. His senses very nearly screamed inside him. Something was watching him. He turned around, warning flashing in his eyes. No one was there. Narrowing his eyes, and shifting them through the trees, he found no other. He was alone. The feeling of being watched dimmed, yet still lingered in the back of his mind. His mind roved the possibilities. He could not see how it could be any kind of foe, for their borders were protected by the strength of the Eldar. No evil being could pass into their realm without them being aware of it.  
  
Finally dismissing it as perhaps a bird or perhaps a fox leering at him, he took one last look around and then climbed up the silk rope ladder to rest in his abode.  
  
This Will Continue . . . . .  
  
Yeah, I know not a lot happened in this chapter, but don't worry. I plan on this being a LONG story, possibly even ending with Legolas leaving for Valinor, so a lot more intriguing happenings are soon to come! Thank you for reading, and I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! If you didn't then much apologies. Review please if you're feeling generous! 


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